Folie à Deux at the SRC
by TarnItUp
Summary: Welcome to the Straight Razor Cabaret! Care to join in on the madness? I can promise it will only hurt a lot. Your smile may heal, but it will never go away... Knives, blood, yaoi, and vaudeville fun. I certainly hope you aren't squeamish, my dear...


**Twoshot, broski. Yaoi, blood, cutting up faces, SEXY TIME, and fun things like that. Also, the characters will seem weird (and maybe a little bit OOC) in the first part, but don't worry about that too much, I'll explain more on why they are later.**

**Inspired by the song Straight Razor Cabaret by Voltaire (www . youtube . com/watch?v=05N0u9gAzrI&feature=results_video&playnext=1&list=PL5C5BD4B111C4096D) which is one of my favorites, even though I didn't actually use any of the lyrics. It has just been stuck in my head for the last three days. Not that I'm complaining, I haven't really written anything YGO in quite a while C: And of course I had to add the touch of mental instability, because it is me and tendershipping. **

**I don't own a damn thing. Not even some of this idea, since the setting was created off the lyrics of the song. **

**Anyway, enough with my rambling, you want to hear a dark and sadistic tendershipping tale, don't you? Yeah, that's what I thought. ****And if you don't get it when you read it, it is a FRAME STORY. That means the story is Bakura is telling this story to you, alright? Alright. Let's go!**

* * *

_By its very definition, folie à deux means a madness shared by two. M__ore specifically, however, folie imposée stands for the event in which a dominant personality imposes their delusional beliefs on a submissive little creature that would have otherwise remained normal. It's really a good thing I'm not insane, or else I'd worry that these circumstances surround me even at this very moment! _

_Oh, I see. You don't understand, do you? Allow me to... illuminate the situation. All you have to do, m__y dear victim, is to listen close to my story, for it is a tale that is as much cautionary as it is for entertainment- my entertainment of course! __No, don't struggle so much on your bindings! You'll chafe your skin and the final result won't be near as lovely. Sit still and listen close as I tell you of what I mean, just how... persuasive I'm known to be. And dear, wipe that look of terror off your face. It's far too tempting... This blade of mine is eager enough as it is!_

_Near that little river, and I'm sure you remember walking by it, my dear, is a block so dark even the police dare not invade its inner depths. You really shouldn't have entered, you know, but it's too late! You're in Devil's Sin now, love! Nowhere in all of Paris is the same sort of evil that exists on this murky strip. And to think we're only a block from the Champs-Élysées!_

_ Didn't you see all of the storefronts and signs? You really should have known better than to walk into my little place, the name itself speaks volumes! You'll pay the price for entering The Straight Razor Cabaret! Please don't scream, darling. It will do you no good._

_Shall we begin?_

I lounged against the bar casually, a dark expression plain on my face. I was not in a good mood. My last victim had passed out early on, and I again cursed the low pain tolerance so many of these silly fools seemed to have. Is it too much to ask for a victim who will enjoy the pain and realize its pleasures? Apparently.

She'd awaken soon with a nasty surprise, though, and that was a soothing thought. In fact, I should be able to hear her screams soon, although that depends completely on when she finally decides to wake up.

You know, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure there's enough time for me to run out to that alley I left her in and splash some water on her wounded face until she is conscious enough to get an eyeful of my beautiful face again. It would ruin her day that much more, and set my spirits a little higher for my upcoming performance.

_You remember my performance, don't you? You'll end up just like her because of it, after all! Ahaha, but you should have just laughed at my jokes and enjoyed yourself! Just like you, she didn't find it amusing, and you'll suffer the same fate as her for it. Haha, when I'm through with my little story, I can guarantee that I'll carve the prettiest smile you've ever seen into your cheeks._

_ I'm in such a good mood, you see. Perhaps I'll even allow my little angel to spray some of that burning disinfectant on your face before I dump you in the alley! My little angel of death... So sweet and considerate like that!_

_Ah, but I'm getting so far ahead of myself! I would like to resume my story before I get too off-topic. Where was I? Oh, my show, I remember._

I was going onstage in a few hours; Mariku, my right-hand man, had gone around handing out fliers for it, and I wanted to be at my utmost best. As much as I enjoy slicing faces, I would prefer to have a show where everyone enjoys themselves. Again, is it too much to ask?

I ordered a drink and tried to ignore how irritated I was. It wasn't too difficult. _As you've no doubt realized, I tend to be a bit of a... laid-back person. See how scarily calm I am, even as I wave my knife mere inches from your succulent red lips? HAHA! _I relaxed easily as I nursed the liquor. It was sharp and burned as it went down. Excellent.

As I polished the beverage off, I ordered another and perused around my little establishment. A drunken woman swayed precariously onstage, crooning out slurred show tunes in a voice rough with the rasp of one too many cigarettes. I made a mental note to ban performers from going onstage inebriated; it made the already nasal woman's songs nearly unbearable, and I certainly didn't want to even see my acrobats under the influence of alcohol! _What a fright that would be! Lawsuits are much scarier than a knife, you know._

Unsurprisingly, most of the tables were empty at that time. Patrons typically came to the Straight Razor Cabaret for the atmosphere, and that atmosphere is typically only tolerable during the shows. If they came at any other time, it had to be for want of verbal abuse. It wasn't a particularly kind establishment, and some of the bartenders had notoriously short tempers and foul language. I wouldn't have it any other way though.

But when it came to be showtime, nearly all of Devil's Sin shut down to see the act, and that was satisfying in and of itself. It is certainly an accomplishment to be the pride, or as we here prefer to call it, disdain, of this grungy paradise! _And what a show it is! Was your favorite part the strumpets? Or did you prefer the juggling? That is always very popular. It makes the struggle to find enough dead monkeys worth it... Of course it isn't time for that yet!_

I soon found myself backstage. It is there that much of the action goes on during the day. Ladies are busy rehearsing and painting their faces, while men care for the numerous beasts. _And oh! such fantastical beasts I have! Do you remember them all? I doubt it, fear makes you forget things..._ The final preparations were being made at that time, and I was in the thick of it all! Of course I was, this was my show, and my cabaret. It only makes sense that I am Host!

I sat down in a tiny room. It was hardly more than a closet, but it was my dressing room nonetheless. In haste, I exchanged my bloodstained garments for others, these of a showier style fit for stage. It almost resembled something from the 19th century, with only a few accent to bridge history with modernity. This is a vaudeville performance, after all! I should look the part, from my baby seal leather boots to my fine, silken black top hat.

I mussed my hair using a cracked mirror I have hanging against the door _(and I'll have you know, ever since I broke the thing, I've had the most impeccable luck!) _and exited without a sound. Silently, I slunk around the corner and maneuvered back up to a slim, bronze-skinned man with hair in a wild disarray of blond spikes, intending on catching him unawares.

He turned before I reached him, however. I broke into a wide grin at his surprised expression, but walked normally the rest of the way up to him. "Hey, Malik! How do I look?" I called to him as I approached.

"Do you want the honest answer?" he asked back, violet eyes flashing mischievously at me.

"Whichever you can manage, obviously. When's the last time you told the truth anyway?"

He laughed at me. "You got me there. But you look like you'd give Jack the Ripper a run for his money, how about that?" he declared ostensibly. I chuckled lightly back in response. He was right, of course. I looked damn good like this, and the thin scar under my eye only accentuated the look, or so I liked to think. It made my face look cold and cruel and haughty whenever I happened to glance into one of the many dingy mirrors that filled the room and aided in the application of stage makeup.

It was a psychopath's face, and behind my white brows glittered the reddish-brown fiends I called my eyes, the eyes of a lunatic who took great pleasure in causing pain. My eyes. My delectable lunacy.

I peeked out of the curtain to gaze at the gathering crowd. It is always an easy thing to see the regulars from the newcomers. Mariku happened to do especially well tonight, it seemed- there was twice the usual number in attendance. I could see them in their normal, at least to the outside world, clothes. They thought they wouldn't stand out, but they do. Standard dress in Devil's Sin isn't so typical. It's bloodstained fabrics and dark, muted colors that really abound here.

So it's no real surprise that he stood out as he did. I could see him sitting at a table in the back, hair white, shirt brightly striped, and jeans a pale grey. He was like a brilliant fleck in the abject darkness that filled the room. He was positively luminescent as the lights dimmed. I always made initial choices before a show on who I suspected might end up with a smile on his or her face, and I had high hopes for this lovely boy. He looked innocent enough to seem out of place, but looked oddly comfortable, even sitting beside a few of our less human-looking patrons.

I'm being perfectly honest here when I say that not all of our customers look perfectly human. _Although I'm sure you remember those, don't you? You cringed when you saw one of them looking you up, don't think I missed it._ It is wonderful though! They are great fun when drunk! Which reminds me...

I saw the singer stumble off the stage and nearly land flat on her face. Not that it would have mattered, though. She had once been passably cute, with dreams of going to New York to become famous. She never even made it to America. By the time I hired her, she had an alcohol and gambling addiction and her beauty was long gone. So in a way, making her sing all day for the bitter chagrin of my customers is good for her. _See? I'm not always such a bad guy. I even pay her in booze. It's a win-win for both of us._

There was a light smattering of applause for her, but it was the half-hearted sort that the out-of-towners and new guests do to be 'polite'. I straightened my jacket and smirked at Malik, who was busy shuffling girls around for the first act. It was his job to fix something if it went wrong onstage or backstage. He was, after all, my best friend's twin brother. He didn't exactly have to wait tables for me. And anyway, he had a certain flair that made him good at what he did.

It was time for the show to begin.

Now, the thing about my particular brand of entertainment, Straight Razor Vaudeville, as I call it, is that you can see immediately who will enjoy it and who will not. The moment I stepped onstage in my filthy, red-spattered tailcoat, I could hear whispers drifting from one side of the room and ragged cheers rise up from the other. The seraph-faced boy's eyes only widened in shock. I made sure I was paying attention to him, gauging his reactions to my vaudevillians' acts.

My jokes, which were about as politically correct as racism and generally as well accepted in outside society, warmed the crowd up. The boy's face never changed, even as, with a flourish of my hands, harlots streamed around me and descended from the stage in a wave of crimson sequins to mingle with the crowd. Most of them would stay down there throughout the show, entertaining my guests. I saw him turn down a flirtatious, buxom blonde with breasts too big for her dress and let out a laugh.

In the background, performers played a roaring overture, and dancers filled the stage around me. The song, as it was my show, was deep and haunting, with a resounding, pulsating beat to it that complimented the high wailing sound enough to make it into a ghostly chorus. It was precisely to my specifications. It was time for the opening entertainment.

A girl approached me from offstage, her outfit ghoulish and gristly enough to stand out from the others, yet revealing enough to attract the audience's attention. She held five dead monkeys in her arms. These I began to toss in the air, letting their corpses fly about and splash droplets of red around the stage as I juggled, a gruesome skill I had been taught when I was young and still found time to hone. Several guests sitting of front were liberally coated, but then, all of them were Devil's Sin residents and had probably chosen to sit there expressly for that purpose. Mariku and Malik call it the splash zone.

Around me my harlots danced, becoming a wild frenzy that surged around and almost swallowed me up. I felt as though I were swimming in a sea of blood in that moment, the lights flashing off of their costumes and the warmth radiating off of their sweaty bodies reminding me so much of that sanguine rapture. I wanted to drown in it all. I would be so content to do so. Wouldn't it just be the most magical way to die? I enjoy thinking about my death, dreaming about the most absurd and fantastic ways I could end it all. This one I enjoy the most, but then, I'd be content with going out in a fight, too.

I slipped offstage in the mayhem, panting lightly and dropping the fetid apes in a nearby refuse bin. A fine sheen of moisture glistened on my brow, beading on it from the heat of the stage lamps above me and the rush of energy flowing around me. Malik applauded me lightly, not that he would have been heard regardless due to the tempo and volume that echoed from the stage. I'd let that play out for a few more minutes before introducing the first act, a stripper. I never said my show was child-friendly, now did I? This is one of the many burlesque elements I've borrowed...

_I've forgotten already, what did you say you enjoyed the most about my show? I saw you were almost taken in by the comedy routine, and my poet fascinated you so very much. Ah, but the poet is rather new. My old monologist wasn't very good, so I fired him. When I say fired, I do mean fired. I never liked him anyway, so setting him on fire was the most entertaining thing I could think of. That took place last show, though. Pity you had to miss it, but I can't kill people every show now can I? It wouldn't be very sporting of me._

_I don't care for the animals much, but some of the acts call for them. One of my strumpets has a curious fixation on donkeys, and spends then entire act stroking it. The audience eats it up, but I don't care for the smell. We usually keep most of them down the street by the butchers. I don't even mind that some of the creatures go missing from time to time, so long as he remembers to feed the carnivores a few steaks every so often on my tab._

_Personally, I enjoy the knife-throwing bit I put on towards the end, but that's just me. I like knives, if you hadn't noticed already. You know that my little guest of honor looked almost enraptured by that bit? He couldn't take his eyes off the stage the whole time. Didn't know then why, but it did make me so very happy. _

The show was a rousing success, in my eyes. An entire table full of people tried to walk out in the very beginning, only to be stopped by Mariku. Another table spent the whole time muttering in shock and horror. So many victims to choose from, so little time. Much to my satisfaction, my snowy-haired imp had spent the whole time watching. Maybe I wouldn't cut his face up, I decided. I had other plans for him...

Malik tapped me on the shoulder during the finale, capturing my attention away from the fascinated boy in the crowd and turning it back to him. "Hey Touzoku-ou, who did you say you wanted to stay after the show again? Mariku keeps pestering me about it and I can't tell him who to watch out for if I don't know myself," he grumbled to me, pouting visibly.

I laughed and patted his shoulder. "It doesn't matter. Tell Mariku he has his choice of anyone from table five, I saw them looking unimpressed the whole time. Oh, and Malik?" I asked, stopping him from running off before I could finish. "Tell him not to let the white-haired man from table two go either. That one is much more important than the others."

He grinned and nodded, jogging offstage to his brother. I saw them talk a moment before he returned. "Consider it done, 'Zoku," he told me. I smirked. It was that easy. I let the show play out the rest of the way, still feeling utterly satisfied. Harlots finished their dances and wove back up to the stage, and around me the chaos drew to a close. The finale was finished.

When it was all said and done, and all the others had left, I swept down from the stage to intercede a fight that I could see was about to break out, grinning like a madman all the while. Two people from table five plus the boy from table two were gathered by the door trying to get around Mariku, but he wasn't budging from his spot.

It helped that his muscular body was leaning against the door. Mariku was significantly stronger than his effeminate twin and he used that brawn to his advantage. He cut a pretty imposing figure, so he was the reverse equivalent of a bouncer- instead of keeping people out, he kept them in. But only my chosen victims, of course.

"What seems to be the problem here?" I asked graciously, keeping the note of sarcasm well out of my tone and in check.

"Your man here won't let us leave!" the woman spat, jabbing an irritated finger at Mariku.

I laughed. "Because I told him to! My hospitality isn't finished yet. Rishid, fix these kind folks a 'smiley surprise'!" I said, naming a drink reserved for after-show parties due to its ingredient list- namely the sleep-inducing drugs it's laced with. Malik came up with the name. I told you he had a certain flair for drama!

"We don't want anything else to drink," the man protested. "We just want to go home."

"And you will," I told them, "right after you tell me what you thought of the show. I love getting input from my visitors."

I pushed the trio to a table despite their further arguments. The table, being round, offered itself a certain degree of security. Mariku sat at the point closest to the main door while I took the chair nearest to the stage. This put the man to my right and the boy to my left. The woman sat between the man and Mariku. If anyone tried to bolt, not that it's happened very often, they would swiftly be stopped. It was easier to appear friendly, however! I can easily lull people into a false sense of security.

_Do you remember? You were so panicky at first, but you relaxed so easily under the influence of alcohol and laudanum. Oh! how I love laudanum. It's such a wonderful drug, and easy to make! We buy the opium from the apothecary next door. They specialize in unusual vices, after all..._

Drinks flowed freely. It took a bit of convincing to get the woman to drink- she was the most reluctant to stay and the most vocal in wanting to leave, but the boy, after admitting that he'd been 21 for several months now and still hadn't tasted a drop of alcohol, took to his drink much more willingly.

He had an insatiable curiosity, it seemed. He loved the show, and pestered me with thousands of questions I gladly answered. Well, until the boy fell asleep slumped against me. His small body, unused to alcohol as it was, slipped from consciousness to sleep quickest of all, and set the other two to panicking again.

They didn't last much longer than him, though, and fell to the table soon after. Malik showed up about this time, and I commissioned him to help. He carried the woman while Mariku slung the man over his shoulder like a sack of broken glass (which he was used to carrying. Bar fights aren't exactly uncommon here); the boy was left to me to carry. My high hopes were well met by that little devil, though I didn't know just how well then.

Rather than follow my comrades to the basement, however, I took the boy up to my room. There was no need to tie him up in the basement like the other two. _I forgot to mention, didn't I? My cabaret is more than one floor- I have a small apartment upstairs, and a basement below. That's were we are now, didn't you know? _There isn't a lot of room upstairs, two tiny bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen is all, and Malik and Mariku already share a room. That left me to take him to mine.

I laid his prone form down on the bed, pulling my arms out from the crook of his knees and from under his back, the spots where I had held my arms in order to carry him. He was light as a feather, so soft and delightfully delicate. I had a sudden urge to slice into his flawless porcelain skin just to see what it would look like painted with crimson. I held it back- barely. There'd be time enough for that later. There would be several hours at least until any of them awoke, so I sat down beside him and relaxed, my fingers twisting knots into his pale hair as I petted him absentmindedly. It was well past midnight.

All drugged parties would sleep for several hours at a bare minimum.

I rose from my seat some time later. It was well past time to leave the bed; my legs were growing stiff, and I had begun to bore of memorizing his innocent little face. The boy, and this only struck me then that I had yet to learn his name, was still sound asleep. I resigned myself to business again. He'd wake up in his own time.

I left the room and found Malik sitting in the kitchen, a small cup of coffee steaming in his palms. He gave me a knowing smile and a nod, and I smirked back at him. He stood and left, retreating into my room to watch after the boy. He knew me so well.

I went down the two flights of stairs and entered the basement. Mariku was down there, probably torturing the two till they awoke. I was half right- he was prodding the man with the tip of his knife. He was bound and gagged; the woman was in a similar condition, but with earplugs to block any sounds the already awake man was making so as not to wake her up. _They looked so much like you, in fact. Mariku used the same ropes on one of them that are now tying you up, I recall..._

Mariku stopped jabbing the whimpering man immediately. I held out my hand. Mariku placed the blade into it without a word, and the tip was already slightly wet with blood. The man's cheek was pricked with weeping pockmarks. I started with him, since he was already awake.

I balanced the knife in my hand, feeling its familiar weight in my palm as I ripped off the gag. I chuckled at the anger and fear in the man's eyes. I watched him struggle and curse. I always particularly enjoyed this part. It really is just as much in the foreplay as it is in the main event, you know.

The blade skimmed along his upper lip, tracing into it cruel and sinuous lines that blossomed and spilled onto his teeth. He swore to kill me and my entire family, not that I have any. That made me laugh. This man had no clue what he was talking about. Murder is easy, but to do it, you have to be cold on the inside. Compared to me, he was a flickering little flame, weak and pitiful, but certainly not cold. He'd never be able to even pull a trigger, even though guns make death easy, let alone stab me in the face as he is threatening.

Knives require far more cruelty, but they also offer much more control. You can actually feel someone dying when you cut them open, you can feel their life force draining out as you slash into their most precious and vital organs. The required amount of depravity and malice is a tough thing to learn. It takes a lot more than the little lesson I was teaching him to harden someone's heart.

Suddenly, I felt a flicker of anger as I thought about it. It can take a lot to harden someone's heart. But sometimes, it just takes a certain realization to make it all possible. It can be so simple at times, a final piece of straw on a beast of burden's back, that light breeze that topples a card tower you've spend so long building, and then you see red and refuse to take it anymore.

I saw red again. Seething, I ripped into his face with the blade, wrenching it through his flesh with a rough, jagged movement. I relished his anguish, reveled in his pain. I had torn all the way through in my sudden surge of anger, but I didn't regret it. No, of course I didn't- I never did.

_Ah, in that moment I was so angry. Don't worry, though! I'll make sure yours is perfect. I was just a little... distracted at that point. I was anxious to see my pet again, and dredging up memories of things better left forgotten always frustrate me. Quite simply, though, it had been in a fit of similar anger some time ago that I was reminded of in that instance, a fit in which I killed my father. I had never by any means loved him. He'd been no better than an abuser and a monster, and it took me some time to realize I didn't have to put up with it. Such memories often irritate me when they catch me unawares. _

_Mariku and I have bonded over such a thing- he killed his father too. Malik killed their mother, but then, that was just an accident. Not that it's relevant, but you see our common similarities. Death is quite the pervading factor in sadism, is it not?_

_Actually, this was his show at first. Now it's mine. I've made it so much better, though. The years have been far kinder to it than they were to him. Wouldn't you agree, darling? I know now that if you don't like things now, you must change them yourself. It isn't in human nature to change for no reason, after all. So that's what I do- fix people like you who don't accept the brutish side of humanity. It's an excellent deal if you ask me._

I was just drugging the man again, prepping him for removal from the premises, when Malik slunk down the stairs. He had been watching the boy for me, that good little helper of mine, and he informed me that my pet was waking up. I thanked him and bid Mariku to dispose of the man for me. The wounds were an improvement, I thought. I doubt his face could get much uglier at any rate. I was calm in a flash.

I left the woman down there after only a split-second's consideration. I'd get to her later, and it'd be more fun if she woke up alone and in the dark anyway.

As I walked, I swiped the knife against my pants to clean some of the blood off of it before flipping it closed and tucking it into my pocket. It was a good knife, and I kept it nice and sharp so it would always be ready for use. I re-entered my bedroom.

Malik had been correct, the boy was indeed stirring, and was looking up at me with those bleary emerald irises.

"Did I fall asleep?" he asked softly. I sat down beside him and stroked his hair, humming in assent. My fingers were still covered with viscous red, and so they left faint pink streaks in the snowy locks. Quite lovely, actually. He didn't seem to notice. "So... was it all a dream?" he mused.

I laughed to myself. "If it was a dream, do you think you'd be sitting here?"

He shook his head. "I suppose not."

_Did I mention yet what his voice sounds like? It's positively captivating. He's grown up in London and Tokyo, and he's spent time before in Egypt and even America! So young, and he's been to so many places! I do envy him just a little bit. All of those places are reflected in his accent, though it's mostly British, and make it so lovely. Think hard about whether you've seen him already or not, I think you'll find you have! HAHA!_

He grabbed took one of my hands gingerly and held it sandwiched between two of his own. He drew one hand back in surprise. "Is this... blood?" he asked in shock, now turning the limb over to look at it.

"I was just having a little fun and got carried away," I said lightly, as if it were nothing. It really was nothing.

His eyes traced back and forth across my face as if thinking over what I just said. "The- the other two I was with. Did you...?"

"I didn't kill them."

He fell silent. His eyes were cloudy, and his face slipped into one of deep contemplation for a moment. "Why am I not hurt?" he asked finally.

I smirked. "You're unique. You laughed."

"Laughed? At what, the show?" he continued.

"Of course the show. If you hadn't laughed, you'd have a permanent smile cleaved into you face like the others. It's all in good fun, though."

He quieted again. "The other person..."

"Malik?" I asked. "What of him?"

"He called you Touzoku-ou. Is that your name? King of thieves?"

I laughed harder than I think I've ever laughed before. He spoke Japanese! I hadn't known that then. "My own private joke!" I chuckled. "Malik doesn't know what it means, he just calls me what I tell him to. Ha, but that's not my real name."

"What... what is it?"

"Bakura," I answered readily._ Yes, I decided to honor the boy with my real name. I didn't tell it to many people, so he should consider himself lucky, as should you for hearing this portion. I trust you, at the sake of your own life, won't share it? Even Mariku fears my retribution should he use it out of turn, and he's quite a scary man, wouldn't you say?_

He smiled and glanced down at his lap. "There, now I know your name!" he said softly, mostly to himself.

"And yours would be?"

He blinked and looked up. "I'm Ryou." His eyes flashed with an indescribable gleam.

I finally had his name, too. I gave a victorious grin. And the best part was, the timidity seemed to be leeching out of his speech with every passing question. I could see his confidence growing quickly, as well as the curiosity again building behind his verdant eyes. He could be useful, very useful indeed. Now to only test him...

"So Ryou, would you like a taste of my sort of fun?" I asked cheerily. If you were just going by my tone, you'd never guess just what I was thinking about. As it was, I buried my intense yearning down deep. Now was not the time just yet for what I wanted. Perhaps in a minute or two, if all went well. And if not, he'd have such a lovely little grin on his face nonetheless. I so wished for him to smile, though, of his own free will. It would really work out much better that way.

I flipped the knife open and it made a satisfying click when the mechanism locked the blade in place. Ryou flinched at the rapid motion. His eyes were wide and staring. I placed it in his hand, and his fingers curled reflexively around it. He stared at it blankly.

"Is something wrong?" I asked him, letting slight concern show in response to that vapid expression. He looked like he'd been broken, and honestly, it creeped me out a little. Me, the great and magnificent owner of the dreaded Straight Razor Cabaret, creeped out by an innocent little guy like him. But what can I say? He looked hollow. I petted his hair again, since he seemed to respond to that last time. Those great big eyes blinked up at me.

_And you know what he told me then? My poor little angel had lost his sister not even a month ago! Killed herself! She used to cut herself with a knife very similar to this one. Apparently she didn't care for razors, and I can't say I blame her. Knives are so much more fun, wouldn't you agree? Oh, but the little devil was so torn up about it! You should have heard what he said next, though. He dreamed the words up, he told me, and had to share them. They were so beautiful, too. Took me completely by surprise._

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary/ I came across an interesting quay that led me to a cabaret/ Now at first I was saddened, by grief I was so maddened, then I quickly became gladdened/ Gladdened by this strange place so hidden that for a time let me forget each and every little regret/ That I'll nonetheless remember forevermore," he recited carefully. I couldn't half hold back my shock.

"Did you just parody Poe?" I asked incredulously.

_And it was true, he had! Never before had I heard so sweet a sound as that child quoting my good friend Edgar Allen. It had to be that lucky broken mirror's fortune that delivered such an obvious treasure right to my doorstep. Do you remember him now? Yes, he was that masked poet laureate that recited that lovely epic of death in his enchanting little voice. How clever of you to remember!_

He nodded at me, informing me in a quiet voice of the source of his grief. So tragic, it was! It was perfect. I could only hope that it had been enough for him to hate.

He wept. I allowed him that for nearly an entire silent minute until I grew bored of his sorrow. I grabbed his chin and tugged it up so he was looking at me. He apologized for crying. I told him to never apologize for anything, especially not to me; those words of sorry never meant a thing anyway.

He took my words to heart and rubbed the tears from his eyes. I brushed a stray drop from his cheek. I saw his eyes flicker up to look at my own, but he flushed and glanced down. His eyes got caught on the thin line that stretched vertically down my cheek. I smirked as one of his hands reached unconsciously up to my face. One finger trailed down the scar's length.

"Like it?" I chuckled.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, not answering my question.

"'Course not. But it's dead sexy, right?"

"How did you get it?"

"A bet. Mariku, Malik's twin, didn't think I could sit silently while he took a dull red-hot knife to my cheek. I'll have you know I proudly won that bet. Of course, Mariku isn't one to be one-upped so he got the same treatment on his back, and Malik didn't want to be left out, either. I carved up both of their backs for them. It was a bloody night, but it was so very fun!"

"Why would you do that?"

"For fun! There's the biggest rush imaginable when you slice into another's skin, see the blood oozing out around the cut like a river of flowing red. Shit, it's beautiful! Like a shot of happiness main-lined directly into your system."

Ryou offered a low, surprise whistle. "That good, huh?" he murmured dubiously.

I wrapped a hand around his, tightening it just enough to remind him of the knife still held in his grip. I offered him a cocky grin and pointed to my face. "You can add another if you'd like to know what it's like. It wouldn't even hurt much- I keep that knife sharp enough to slice though muscle like butter. What's a little scar-tissue to that? You'd barely even have to push." I added the sales pitch ending to alleviate the doubt I could so obviously see. Guess he's never seen someone offer to let him cut their face open with a knife. But then, he didn't outright reject me, which gave me serious hope for the kid.

I could see the little gears whirring in his head, at that point. 'Oh, should I? He's so willing! But what if I hurt him? He did insist he wouldn't mind, though... Wait, why am I even considering this? This isn't something I should do! But I am so curious...' It all played out on his face, so easy to read.

"Come on, just a little nick is all! And I want this," I said, easing his worries.

His eyes sparked. "Al-alright, I'll do it," he said, the timidity returning swiftly to his tone.

His arm rose slowly, quivering in anticipation and hesitation. I nudged his wrist so he would hold the knife differently. It would cause more pain that way, and I wanted him to know how to hold the knife that way anyway. I wanted him to become my future assistant, after all. He just needed to learn a little bit of bloodlust to do it right.

I felt the icy metal kiss my skin, the steel having long since grown cold during our chat. All of the warm blood was wiped off, anyway. He stared right into my eyes and I offered him again a satisfied smile. His breath hitched in his throat; his hand twitched involuntarily. I felt the blade's bite, rending the skin in a line perpendicular to the original scar. A small stream of warmth flowed down my cheek.

He yelped and leapt backward, trying to distance himself from both me and the knife, but to no avail. I grabbed the wrist of the hand that had just dropped the blade and held it tight. He didn't get far. Instead, I took the hand I held and cradled my now-wounded cheek in it. Blood stained his hand, and I hummed lightly. He soon stopped trying to flee once he realized it was futile.

We sat there in silence until the blood ceased flowing, and even then we said nothing. His panicky breaths slowed to a normal speed, and the pulse throbbing in his fingers no longer reminded me of a bird's.

Finally, I let out a small chuckle that broke that silence. "So, how did that feel?" I asked him. He wasn't looking at me, more the wound he had inflicted.

"I... I don't know," he said honestly, eyes brimming with a sheen of moisture. I lifted his hand from my face and looked at the fingers. I gave his index finger a small lick just to taste the iron tang. It really is delightfully bitter, sort of a singular curiosity in a way. His eyebrows quirked up. "But wait, shouldn't I be asking you that? I cut your face!"

"You know, you really need to relax," I informed him. I smiled and took his chin in my fingertips again so he'd be looking me in the eyes. "Do I look like I'm hurt?"

"N-no, but-"

I placed a fingertip on his lips to silence him. His eyes were filled with an outpouring of emotion, as if I could see straight down into his soul. I wanted to eat that little soul up. I kissed him instead.

His body went rigid beneath me as I pinned him to my bed, and I took his two hands into one of my own to hold them high above his head; the other was splayed across his chest to keep him down. My face was close to his, far closer than I imagine he expected. Where my breath ghosted across his face, it flushed a furious crimson that proved me right.

I captured his lips, took away his ability to protest as he squirmed in shock beneath me. I ground against his lithe body hungrily. He felt so good, and I had to admit that I felt a certain level of physical attraction to that innocent little dear. I'd be lying if I said I didn't. This lasted several moments easily, though I have no recollection of how long it really was. He moaned lightly and I gave him a chance to breathe again. He panted heavily; a string of saliva connected our mouths. I licked my lips and let out a cold, cruel laugh.

His eyes were the biggest I'd ever seen them when they reopened. His high cheekbones were dusted a rose-red I could just see through the dim starlight streaming in from my window. He was more than a little hot and bothered by my action, and I almost purred in predatory satisfaction. The boy was attracted to me, too. That made my plan so much easier.

I leaned down again, this time putting my lips up against the shell of his right ear. "If you'd like to have some fun, feel free to join me in the kitchen," I murmured huskily in his ear, and I felt him shiver every time I brushed against him. And just like that, I stood up and swept over to the door, leaving him lying there on the bed alone and sprawled out defenselessly. I offered him only a solitary glance more before closing the barrier between us.

I chuckled quietly and wandered into the designated location. All was silent except for the snuffling snores of Mariku, and I figured it would be safe to assume that Malik was asleep too. He wasn't around at that time, at any rate. His cup of coffee, nearly empty and certainly cool, still sat on the counter. I moved it to the sink. Having a fascination with blood, knives, and carving people's faces up doesn't mean I have to enjoy living in a cluttered apartment. Someone stumbled noisily into the kitchen. It was little Ryou.

_You know, I probably should mention something. I call him little, but when I say that, I simply mean that he is younger than I; in fact by no more than several years, I would guess. He does look quite young. I forget how old I am, at any rate. I haven't counted birthdays since I was twelve. I've no clue how long ago that was. Malik seems to think he needs to celebrate every year, though, and that's the only bearing I truly have on time passing. I don't even_ _notice._

I grinned at him. "I-I just didn't want to be alone, you devil," he said, wrapping his arms around himself defensively.

"Whatever lures the innocents into sin," I said loftily.

"Like I said. Devil," he grumbled. Yes, Ryou was most certainly attracted to me, but refused to admit it. Of this I was certain. He was stubborn, and that could work to my advantage. He didn't want to seem weak, didn't want to look as though he couldn't handle himself. Leading him into this glorious madness would be great fun.

I walked over to where he stood and threw my arm over his shoulder, guiding him to the stairs. "Do you still have that knife I left with you?"

He shook his head. "No, it's still on the bed, I think."

"No matter. I have another I enjoy using."

He nodded slowly, then froze. "Wait, you mean?"

"I still have business to take care of, after all. It'd be more enjoyable if you helped." I opened the door to the basement and revealed the woman still tied up. She whimpered and began struggling again at the light that flooded the room at the flick of a switch. Well, if you define flooded as a small, dirty bulb in the middle of the room that threw drastic shadows into the corners because it couldn't quite reach that far, then yes, flooded the room. So, she was awake.

Ryou regained use of his legs and entered the room behind me, closing the door softly enough that it didn't make a sound. She stopped moving the moment she saw him. She was utterly shocked to see him walking free, while she sat bound and gagged and in the dark. That, or she was taken aback by my face. It was still half-covered in blood, after all. But she was so surprised by whatever it was.

I hardly looked at her, but Ryou couldn't stop staring. Even while I walked my way over to the back wall, a thick slab of cement with holes bored into it and pegs wedged into those holes so weapons could be balanced upon it, his eyes never left her. Then I grabbed my blade of choice, and the scraping sound of steel against cement drew his attention right back to me. My beloved straight razor- a classic, and my cabaret's namesake.

I walked back to the woman and tugged the side of the gag down. She still couldn't speak, but it did expose one cheek to the air. I made sure Ryou was watching as I swiped the blade through her flesh in a fluid, deft motion. Blood spurted, and she screamed against the fabric. There was no pomp, no circumstance in this slice, and yet Ryou shook visibly. I let out a small chuckle at him, turning to face him again. "See what fear can do to a person?" I asked him. "It doesn't hardly hurt, and yet she panics like this. She doesn't see it quite the way we do."

I went back over to him and secured my arm around his waist, pulling him over to the woman. "Think you can handle fixing up her other side? We don't want to leave her with a crooked grin, now do we?"

"But- but why?"

"She's not like you, Ryou. She doesn't smile like she should. We'd be doing her a disservice to leave her like this. We're actually helping her. She's just a little frightened, same as you. It's really no big deal," I persuaded. Each comment stacked upon the last and added fuel to the already-growing blaze that filled his conflicted heart. That's how I wanted him- conflicted people can be easily persuaded with the right words. You just have to beguile them until they see things your way, truly it is simple.

I handed him the razor. I chose it over another knife for several reasons- for one, it held no connections to anything he had ever known. In fact, I only discovered such a dear little weapon through a movie, though I can't remember the title. Something about a man who killed people with a straight razor and made them into pie, I think. I should like to taste people pie. Maybe one day, when I'm particularly infuriated with one of my visitors, I can try it. I do try my best not to kill too often, though accidents sometimes happen.

For another, I wanted him to use that. It's be fun for his first taste of a stranger's blood to be with the same thing I used. He could work his way up to knives if he needed to, or he could continue to just use that.

His hesitation was far more prominent this time. Rather than being conflicted about whether I was serious about wanting the cut, he was confused as to whether or not _he _wanted to cut the woman. My words still rang true in his ears and he knew how much of a rush it was to see that red weeping out, but at the same time she was far more unwilling than I and that scared him. I'd have to take matters into my own hands.

"Ryou, come here a moment," I called. I beckoned at him from the seat on the wooden crates I had taken only moments before, and he came over to me. I pulled him onto my lap and looked him seriously in the eye, taking his right hand so I partially held the blade. "Ryou, calm. You are my little hikari, my light. You can do no wrong other than by doing nothing at all. Need I remind you of how good this feels?" I ask, guiding his hand back up to my face. I sliced into my own cheek again, creating a line parallel to the first he had carved.

His lower lip trembled like a pert, pink rose petal wavering freely in the breeze. I leaned forward and bit that shaking lip, sucking it into a kiss slightly sweeter than the one I gave him earlier. His pulse quickened again. My blood spattered onto his face, and I smirked into the embrace when I found he was too engrossed to notice. I deepened the kiss further, exploring that hot little cavern of his mouth until he begged for air. He looked dazed, but slightly desensitized.

I edged him off my lap and nudged him back towards the woman. He glanced back at me as he walked, and his gaze suddenly hardened. He looked more resolved to his task than I think I had ever seen. His hand didn't shake this time as he rearranged the strip of fabric around her face, nor did his back and shoulders hold that same meek bearing they had before- at least not all the way. It was almost as if he felt as though he were irritated by his timidity, as well as with the gag binding her mouth.

Before I could say a word advising him otherwise, he had wrenched the fabric free from her face, leaving it as blank and empty as a fresh canvas. She spat out the cloth in her mouth. She looked up at him. Oh, damn, I thought then. He's going to lose his nerve the moment she says something. This might not end as well as I thought.

I saw her lips part, and a breath of air passed through to fill her lungs. "Why?" she whispered, tone cracking. "Why would you do this? How is he making you?"

Then, to my intense surprise, he said gently, "n-no one is making me do anything."

"You don't have to do this," she pressed. "Please."

There was a glorious gleam to his eyes as he said his response, one that made me want to yell with manic satisfaction. "Yes, I do. I want to," he stated, building up his courage rapidly. His hand convulsed only once as he brought it up to her face. Her eyes glistened in terror. The blade swept across her face once, then twice when he saw that his wound hadn't quite matched mine in depth and length. I grinned in exultation and walked briskly towards him, catching his face in my hands as his victim screamed aloud, sobbing violently from the pain of the jagged gash.

"That was perfect, Ryou!" I cried, letting him see the full length of my jagged canine teeth as I smiled. A weak smile of his own crossed his lips, clearly relieved by my pride in him, and at his success. And I was so proud! He watched the screaming woman's eyes roll back in her head as she passed out from pain, a sudden flicker of concern on his face. It was as if he had just realized all that had conspired here tonight.

"Did I do all that?" he asked, looking first over her red-painted face, then back at my own mug, dusted as it was by the rusty flecks of drying blood. I gave him a nod and another of my toothy grins. I felt one of the fresh scabs crackle along my cheekbone, and blood flowed anew down my face. "You wouldn't happen to have a first-aid kit, would you?"

The smile fell. "A... first-aid kit. You're asking me, the guy who just convinced you to cut open two people's faces, for a first-aid kit?" I said in mild disbelief.

"Yes. Do you have one? Or maybe just some bandages to bind your faces up with?"

I blinked at him, watching him blankly for several long moments. He continued to stare at me expectantly. "Kitchen, left-hand cupboard above the stove, bottom shelf. You have Malik to thank for that," I told him, scowling.

"Thank you, 'Kura!" he called, sprinting up the stairs. _And yes, he did call me Kura. You try to smile at that and I'll kill you slowly and painfully. Maybe I'll even get to try that pie sooner than I originally thought..._

He reappeared moments later, but by that time I had already reclaimed my perch on the crates. He skipped lightly over to me, yes, skipped, with a red box held in his fingers by the handle. I assumed that the razor had been left upstairs like the knife. I'd really need to teach that boy a lesson on proper knife care sooner or later.

"Now close your eyes," he warned, holding up a mysterious green can. I almost didn't have the time to close them before he depressed the trigger and caused the spray to pelt my face. I roared in anger and pain at the sudden burning sensation. I hadn't expected it to hurt. When the spray had stopped, I cracked my eyes open slowly to glare at him. He giggled at me. "Oh, don't be a baby. It's just a bit of disinfectant spray; it doesn't hurt that bad."

I didn't stop glaring at him, only stole the spray away from him and stalked over to the victim. I sprayed her wounds with a furious expression. She whimpered through the cloak of unconsciousness, and I shot him an affronted look. "See? It does burn," I snarled unhappily. He giggled again and patted me on the head. I snapped at his hand, and he laughed harder. He began to use a wet wipe to cleanse my face of blood. It stung like alcohol.

"So what do we do now?" he asked when he had finally settled down a little.

I shrugged. "Same thing I always do. Take the body out to the alley before it wakes up again. You can help with that too if you like."

"And then what happens?" he pressed as he bound my face in clean white bandages. His eyes looked as though they were already getting heavy as he came down off of his adrenaline rush. The kid'd need some rest if he were to stay here.

"We sleep 'till noon," I answered lightly. "And maybe carve you a few scars of your own. Scars are sexy, after all. And then tonight, I'm going to show you everything you've been missing out on in life."

He gave me a small, tired smile. Corrupting the innocent is such fun. If I had known how fun this all was, I think I would have done it sooner. Now, I thought, let's just see how far I can take this.

* * *

**Fact: The Straight Razor Cabaret's vaudeville is an authentic (gory and almost burlesque in a way) show. I researched some and made them bloodier (and included a few of the things that were mentioned in the song) to make it as accurate as possible C: So actually, you're getting the real deal here ^-^ **

**Remember to review and alert, and I'll promise to have the other half out soon. Do we have a deal? **


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